


the daybreak that won't come

by mulkki



Category: Readyyy! Project (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Humiliation, M/M, Power Imbalance, hi im problematic, stepping on ppl, verbal abuse by spades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 20:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulkki/pseuds/mulkki
Summary: Uta wants, and Genshin can't help.





	the daybreak that won't come

**Author's Note:**

> hi i dont know what to say about this other than the beat in love music video broke into my house and punched me in the face and threw me out my window and im thanking them for it, this will eventually be jossed to hell once the actual game comes out (if they ever delve into la-veritta's story, which, uh, PLEASE DO SO readyyy!proj im dying i need more breadcrumbs) but atm i dont care i am just living for these beautiful tragic gay songbirds
> 
>  **before you continue, this is your last warning:** you can still close out of this tab if you are uncomfortable with problematic ships and power imbalances and abusive/humiliating words. there's a lot of issues here

Uta dreams.

He dreams of staggering applause, fading echoes of music, breath escaping him in pants—as he stands under the bright stage lights, the weight of a thousand gazes upon him, bought and won by his— _his_ , no one else’s—melodies.

He’s not alone. Big hands support him, wrapped hot around his waist. He’s sweaty, they’re _both_ sweaty under all the lights and costumes, but he leans into the touch anyway until his head rests against that stable arm, until the warmth envelops all of him as strong arms guide him back off stage. Uta blindly follows those arms, needing more of that touch, that presence, that voice singing his song.

Warm, steady hands wrap themselves around his face, cupping his cheeks, running down his sides, claiming his narrow waist, and Uta presses into every touch, wanting more, _more_ , he missed him, he missed him _so much_. He pulls his face closer, wanting to see him, to catch his lips in his own—

—Different, mournful eyes look up at him from bended knee, and Uta pulls away as if burned.

 

He wakes up.

 

\---

 

“Did you bring them?”

“Yes.” Genshin presents him with a neat folder holding equally neat letters inside, and Uta shuffles through them without a second thought. “I thought of using some imagery to match the mood your melodies made, and…”

Uta reads as Genshin talks, probably of nothing important, creasing the pages in his grip as he starts to piece together melody with lines, notes with syllables. Genshin is lacking in a lot of ways, but Uta will concede one point: he’s good at writing lyrics. Perhaps, though, it’s _because_ he’s so lacking musically, _because_ he’s on the basic level of their mainstream audience, that he can write the words they’d understand to bridge Uta’s lofty melodies to them. He draws lines and writes notes along said words, smudging ink through Genshin’s neat penmanship, writing tracks all over the thoughts and feelings so dearly laid out.

“It’ll work,” he says.

Genshin looks up at him, having long since gone silent, and there’s a relief and joy that washes across his face as Uta breaks the silence. It makes him want to take those words back and throw the papers in his face. _Patience,_ he tells himself instead. There isn’t much time until their new single release, and he can’t afford to throw out lyrics, especially such good—

“—Anyways,” Uta tosses the papers into a haphazard pile on a nearby table. “That isn’t to say they need some work.”

Genshin’s smile falters a little, but the same hopeful light stays. “Yes, of course. I’d be happy to work on them some more.”

“Fine,” Uta bites back the taste of annoyance. “Let’s go over the lyrics. There were a couple parts I don’t think work very well, namely—” he taps a finger against a line, angrily crossed out. “—this part.”

Genshin peers at it. “ _‘We’ll be able to understand everything about one another.’_ ” He looks up, brows furrowing at Uta. When he doesn’t speak up, Uta _tch_ es.

“Why?” When Genshin continues to stay silent, Uta doesn’t resist the urge this time to roll his eyes. “ _‘Understand everything about one another’_ , it’s ridiculous. I can accept most of the other parts, but I’m not singing something so stupidly pointless for my song.”

“I thought—“ Genshin starts, then hesitates. It takes a beat, two, three, Uta counts, until he speaks up again. “I thought… that it might reach our audience’s hearts. People want to understand one another.”

 _No one_ ever _truly understands,_ he thinks bitterly as he sighs and leans an elbow on the table. “Do I look like ‘most people’?” He stares boredly down at Genshin, who’s looking down at the sheet in his hands. His hands are so big, he muses, but he holds the paper delicately as if he’s afraid to mar the white. Stupid, he’s so stupid. What does it matter to treat everything so tenderly, like he’s afraid to leave his mark? Isn’t life, and being the musicians they are, in order to leave your lasting mark on this world? All that size and strength, and none of it put to use.

Uta hates it. “And to imagine, you’d make it _my_ part. Were you even thinking of me?”

Genshin starts, the wounds clear in his eyes as he looks at Uta. “Of course I was! You’re the one I write for—my words are yours.”

“Your words are mine, huh?” Uta’s eyes narrow at the thoughts. “Mine.” He imagines Genshin late at night, hunched over his desk. He imagines those big, weak hands writing and re-writing words, running through his hair in frustration, scrubbing his eyes as he spends nights trying to come up with something worth Uta’s time. Hands that finally found rest once he found something worth presenting. _He must be so proud,_ Uta thinks.

 _...I could devastate him_ , he smiles to himself.

“Well, if they’re mine, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I changed them.” He offers him his sweetest smile, and doesn’t think he imagines seeing Genshin’s defenses crumble. “Right?”

He hates that Genshin doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course not, Uta. If you think so, I won’t argue.”

“Is that all you think of the lyrics you wrote me? Did you offer me something you don’t even have the pride to defend?”

“Uta—“

Uta laughs in his face. “Well, it’s not like I expected anything amazing from you. I’ll take what you give me, and make it better with my music. That’s about all I expected from you anyway.” He rips the paper out of Genshin’s hands and starts scrawling in smudged, hasty letters. “‘We… could… _never_ … understand… everything.’” He marks the last dot and marvels for a second at the feeling of finality, of making his mark, not unlike the feeling of finishing the last measure of a phrase. He holds the paper up in front of Genshin’s face. “Perfect.”

“…If you want, then yes. We’ll go with that.” Genshin still smiles at him even through the obvious, blatant hurt on his face. Uta wants to bite that smile off his lips. “My words are for you.”

“For me,” he repeats. His eyes trace the words on the paper he holds between them. “For me…” he whispers as he reads the lyrics, going line-by-line with his new addition. “For me,” he stops as his eyes fall on a line, just as Genshin still looks at him as if he can somehow see through the paper.

He pauses, then whips the paper out of the way as Genshin starts.

“Did you write this thinking of me?” he asks.

“…Yes,” Genshin responds. “Of course.”

“Even this line?” Uta points.

Genshin reads, and a gasp catches in his throat. “—I.” He looks down and away, cowering like like a small animal, distinctly unfitting how large he is. At the sight Uta feels something spark in him like electricity, coursing through his chest and extending through his limbs all the way to the fingertip resting on the words in question.

“Hmm,” Uta smiles. “So that’s what you think of me.”

“I—“ Genshin hesitates. “I do write for you, Uta. But I also wrote while thinking of what audiences might enjoy hearing. We are idols, after all.”

“Is that your excuse?” Uta rests his cheek on his hand. “You think the audiences would want to hear about how much you want to ‘sweetly kiss’ me?” His lips curl unconsciously. “Oh, I forgot, you added something to that—” He makes a big show of shaking the papers in his face, relishing the way they wrinkle and bend out of the neat sheets Genshin first presented, taking his time as Genshin shrinks into himself. “What was it, ah, _’naively’_?” He laughs in his face as Genshin retreats into himself even more. “Tell me, Genshin,” he asks sweetly. “What did you mean by ‘naive’?” He traces an ink-stained finger along Genshin’s jaw, and giggles when he starts as if the sudden contact shocks him. “What kind of things did you imagine doing to me?” He flutters his lashes up at him, angling his face in the angelic pose carved into his muscle memory. “What kind of sweet, terrible, _base_ things did you _dream_ you could do to—” He pulls away, tracing the same finger along his own skin, teasing as he drags it down the pale of his neck peeking through his casually unbuttoned collar. “—to ‘naive’ little me?”

Genshin closes his eyes and angles his body away. “I wrote to show the charm of your music, as best as I could.”

“Really?”

Genshin wordlessly shifts in his seat, and it’s then Uta _realizes_.

“...Oh.” Uta hums in mock curiosity, leaning down to where Genshin hunches over. “Well,” he looks down at himself, at his unbuttoned collar and delicate hands that once traced Genshin’s jaw. “Is that really _all_ it took?” As Genshin’s face reddens further and his legs shift in an all-too-honest attempt to hide the tent in his trousers, Uta leans back and laughs. “You’re so stupid. You can’t even lie to me, so why’d you write this?” He slaps the pile of papers on the desk. “Only idiots would be this honest with their feelings.” He sneers down, lips curling wide to show his teeth. “You’re stupid. Stupid _and_ disgusting.”

“I’m sorry,” Genshin whispers, a barely-there breath as he bows and shrinks into himself even further.

He’s pathetic, Uta thinks. _Pathetic, pathetic,_ he repeats as his lips curl without him realizing. The line of Genshin’s drawn shoulders, the shame written across his face: the sight sends blood rushing through his ears, his heart, coursing down his back and through his limbs and out to the foot that he extends now to nudge the tented front of his trousers. He must look a sight, he thinks—this is a departure from the buttoned-up angelic image the agency enforces with him. No one knows about this side of himself, he thinks, as the thrumming energy in him extends a hand out to Genshin’s jaw and tugs him up to face him. And, he smirks down at Genshin, no one would believe it anyway.

“How much do you want me?” Uta whispers between them, and the sharp hitch of breath from Genshin isn’t lost on his ears. He giggles, foot stepping harder and relishing the pain it sends blooming across his face.

“I...” Genshin averts his eyes, but doesn’t fight back against the small hand holding him in place. It irks Uta, how he plays the gentleman even in this situation. He could fight back; he could force Uta’s hand away, he could take his wrists in those big hands and _pull_. Instead he wastes it away and suppresses the power he could hold, all to be _nice_.

“Fine. Don’t answer. It just goes to show you can’t work with me, too.” Uta feigns disinterest as he gets up, turning away to face the door.

“Uta, please!” Genshin’s voice comes not even two steps later, and Uta’s lips curl as satisfaction and something darker spark inside him. The momentum carries him back to face Genshin, and Uta admits, the view from up high is nice. Yet another thing wasted on Genshin.

“Then let’s see you prove it.”

“...what?”

Uta rolls his eyes. “Prove that you can work with me.”

Genshin gasps. “O-of course, I’ll do anything.” The hopeful light in Genshin’s eyes even after all this makes Uta ball his fists. But then, he realizes the possibilities of that spoken agreement of _anything_.

“Hmm… anything...” He walks in a circle around Genshin’s chair, extending a hand to trace the hard back of the uncomfortable rehearsal room chair. His eyes catch on to the slight jump of Genshin’s shoulders and the blossoming pink of his ears at _anything_ , and it’s then Uta gets an idea.

Genshin remains silent through the ordeal, knuckles white along the edges of his seat.

Uta completes the circle to face him again, and crouches down. “Anything,” he whispers again, husky against Genshin’s ear, and knows he’s struck a chord when Genshin jumps, again, and can’t stop the flush spreading across his face. “You really _do_ want me, don’t you?” Uta hums. “You really _would_ do anything.”

Genshin doesn’t speak, only closes his eyes.

“Let’s see, then, how well you can obey orders.”

Uta straddles him in his seat and grips his face up to meet his eyes in one swift motion, ignoring the obvious startled jerk of Genshin’s body from the sudden contact. His other hand pushes on Genshin’s chest, and the rapid thump-thump of Genshin’s heart is telltale even through the layers of his uniform. “No touching,” he smiles mockingly, then crushes his mouth down onto Genshin’s gaping lips.

 _It’s strange_ , Uta thinks as he invades Genshin’s mouth—despite the circumstances Genshin is still gentle, still soft and yielding to Uta’s pushes. It makes irritation well up in him and he bites, _hard_ , on Genshin’s lower lip. A moan, deep and stilted, draws out from Genshin’s throat at that, and it takes a few seconds of breathless kissing and biting for the implication to hit Uta’s mind. The stiff sensation he feels underneath him clues him in, though, and Uta breaks away to admire the disheveled mess he’s made of him. He smirks when Genshin’s body unconsciously follows him as he leans back, at those eyes staring at him in open astonishment at what just happened, too stunned by Uta to hide away let alone notice the slight trail of blood forming on his lower lip.

The thrumming sensation of power won’t stop. “Remember what I said,” he smiles, and doesn’t even give Genshin a couple seconds to respond until he’s pushing him back into the chair again, biting territorial marks down his neck. He doesn’t notice the racing pulse of his own heart, the way he breathes in Genshin’s air as if he were suffocating, ignores how good it feels to suck and bite at those pliant, forgiving lips. He further ignores how his own hands rise up to clutch at his neck and run down the muscular panes of his chest, doesn’t bother to think about how he presses himself deeper into that lap. He dreams of more—imagines big hands around his waist, a familiar voice murmuring underneath him, comforting skin against skin, lips tracing wet lines along his pale neck. What’s dream and what’s reality, he can’t tell anymore. But he can’t stop chasing the pulses between them, the beat heavy and thrumming and ever-evolving as his own moans and pants join the mix.

The beat screeches to a halt when a warm hand reaches under his clothes and slides against skin, and Uta’s hand slaps it away before either of their minds can catch up to what happened. The sharp sound of the slap echoes between them, and as Genshin’s look of surprise transform into horror at realizing the rule he’d broken, Uta’s own vision clears to realize who it is that sits underneath him. He sucks in a sharp breath, the half-formed, primitive beats they had tumbling into dissonance as ice runs down Uta’s spine at what just happened.

“I said,” Uta hisses with cold fury. “ _No touching_.”

“I—” Genshin looks horrified, but even that isn’t enough to satisfy Uta. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

Uta rips his other hand away from his waist and pushes off him with all the force he can muster, sending Genshin tumbling off the chair. “It doesn’t matter.” He looks down at the sight of him, sweaty and disheveled and helplessly hard in his trousers. “You were a miserable failure anyway.”

“Uta—”

Uta wheels away, straightening his uniform. “We’re done here.” He nods in the direction of the spilled sheets. “Clean that up, and revise it by tomorrow.” He walks out, pausing just briefly in the doorway. “And don’t talk to me until then. Don’t even come near me.”

He leaves Genshin behind with a final _slam_ of the rehearsal room door, shutting out everything—the dreams, the lyrics, Genshin’s stupid face. He doesn’t need any of them, anyways. He doesn’t need anyone to help him.

 _I don’t need you,_ he mutters to himself, over and over as he walks alone, until he isn’t sure who he means.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for coming to my ted talk on la-veritta's beautiful sad gay problematic potential, in which i couldnt decide if i wanted uta to step on him or kiss him so i went with both
> 
> anyways a couple **translation notes:**  
>  **1)** The line uta crosses out isn't an actual lyric in “beat in love”, and what he writes instead is the published song's lyric; the full verse is:  
> 
>
>> 強く強く抱きしめて  
> 分かる許すだけじゃない  
> 全てなんて分かり合えない  
> 時は密かにすぎる
> 
>   
> Anyways i thought it sounded very uta-esque and what might’ve happened to make genshin write such negative lyrics, especially because throughout the song there are very hopeful parts and then some very sad parts. so I imagined (read: went down a rabbit hole) maybe uta might change parts of his lyrics to fit his mood and exercise his control over genshin? shrug emoji
> 
>  **2)** the line uta refers to about the kissing is [甘く未開口付けして]. 未開 can mean primitive and unrefined, but in a way that implies natural and untouched, and because of the preceding 甘い (which can mean sweet but also “naive”) I went with that meaning, as naive can also imply untouched and inexperienced.


End file.
